


Anything but Perfect

by Waterlilylf



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Romance / Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterlilylf/pseuds/Waterlilylf
Summary: Award-winning chef Zechs Merquise can effortlessly create the perfect meal, paired with the perfect wine, but he somehow hasn't managed to find the perfect partner for himself. Until, after a disastrous date, he accidentally comes across a feisty and very attractive young man in distress. Duo Maxwell is anything but perfect and yet....





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I in no way own any part of Gundam Wing, and make no financial profit from writing.

Anything but Perfect: 

Note: This is a shamelessly-belated birthday fic for Dyna Dee, with very best wishes. Also, many thanks to Kaeru Shisho, who really is the perfect editor.

 

Chapter 1 / 2:

 

The first time they met wasn’t a meet cute or a cute meet or whatever absurd term his younger employees were bandying about nowadays.

It could have been, maybe.

It certainly had all the right elements; enough to satisfy the most sentimental of romantic novelists; the ones who had written the books his sister had sighed and sobbed over as a teenager. A balmy, moonlit night on a beach in Southern Spain, with the gentle plash of silver-washed waves against the shore. The sweet, honeyed scent of oleanders. There was a light breeze, blowing inland, but with an occasional gust out to sea that carried the sound of a car on the main road, or the staccato snap of castanets, along with the rhythmic slap of the dancers' feet, from the small beachfront restaurant which put on a flamenco performance every Sunday night, for the tourists.

Apart from those sounds, never frequent enough to be intrusive, he could have been alone in the world; a man gazing out to sea. Zechs leaned against the railing, trying not to think about a rare Sunday night off that had been wasted on uninspired food and even less inspiring company.

He was never going to let his sister set him up on a date again. 

The evening hadn't even been bad enough to be laughable, in retrospect. Just a couple of hours spent making laboured conversation with a man with whom he'd had not one single thing in common. A man who'd put a lavish squirt of tomato sauce on a dish of penne carbonara. Admittedly, the pasta had been rather dire, but still. There had to be some limits. 

They'd probably bored each other, he thought, ruefully honest. But seriously, what had Relena been thinking, setting him up with an accountant who'd spent most of their first course waxing lyrical about a new software programme his company had installed? Who'd actually liked the processed sauce on his prawn cocktail and who'd shamelessly admitted that he thought gourmet cooking was a waste of time and money? 

He'd been attractive enough, and clearly interested in Zechs on a physical level, and on another night he might possibly have taken the very-obviously-on-offer sex as a consolation prize. He'd been tired though; as he was taking the night off, he'd been in the kitchen at five that morning, and he just couldn't be bothered. 

Which did leave him alone, walking home along the cliffs and watching the sea and the stars at midnight, and thinking that if he had been in a romantic novel, he would have been with someone. Or about to meet the perfect someone.

As it turned out, of course, he was about to, and under all the laws of the universe, the first time he met the perfect someone should have been perfect too. 

It wasn't. 

The first sign that he wasn't alone any longer was the sound of footsteps approaching. Damn it. He should have realised. The La Luna restaurant usually closed around twelve; there would be people choosing to walk home across the cliff path, or couples setting out on a romantic interlude, fuelled by copious glasses of cheap sangria, and an evening of throbbing guitar music.

Right. 

Time to go home himself.

He had a little moment of self-mockery, admitting that he didn't really want to have to witness any such romantic trysts. He was good-looking; successful by any standards; intelligent; charming when he wanted to be. If he was alone on this particular night, he'd chosen it. It wasn't even that late, by Spanish standards. He could take a taxi into Marbella, where most of the clubs and bars would only be starting to get busy.

If he decided to walk home instead, and seek solace with his cat and a book and a glass of exceptionally good brandy – well, maybe he was getting older. Or more sensible. Or entirely corrupted by his smugly-married sister and his two mutually-adoring closest friends, all of whom were snuggled in little cocoons of domestic bliss.

He pushed off from the railing; oh, definitely time to go home if he was starting to get maudlin. He'd drunk far too much wine over dinner; anything to try to give the evening a shine. It hadn't worked, but he was definitely starting to feel the effects of over-indulgence now. Idiot, tarnishing his palate with a cheap house red, that had come in a bottle undistinguished by any mention of vintage, vineyard or variety. He'd drunk the first couple of glasses because his date had ordered the bottle, being a typical penny-pinching accountant. 

Afterwards, he hadn't cared much. He'd drunk because there'd been an alcohol content. 

Idiot, for several reasons, he acknowledged dryly. The footsteps he'd heard approaching had coalesced into two figures, standing very close, right in the middle of the narrow path. There was, really, no possible way for this night to get any worse. 

Except there was. Always. He'd retreated a few steps himself, thinking of options. He could just barge past with a muttered apology; he could take the other way, which would add a good half-hour on to his walk home. Neither was appealing. And while he stood there, just around the corner and out of sight, the argument began. He wasn't quite close enough to hear exactly what was being said, but close enough to hear the louder parts, which were ugly and obscene. More than close enough to get the general gist. 

He did think about intervening but the man who seemed to be getting most of the abuse – cock tease and whore and other choice epithets – seemed to be perfectly able to hold his own, in an accent Zechs couldn't quite identify, and at some volume. More than able to hold his own, once he got into his stride. He actually winced a couple of times. There was a bit more shouting, and then the sound of one pair of feet storming off. 

Fine. Now, at least, he could go home. The other man, the one who hadn't stalked off, was sitting on a little bench by the side of the path.

'Are you all right?' Zechs couldn't help asking because it was pretty much his default setting, and he'd witnessed a few blazing rows in the restaurant (rarely quite such a conflagration) but sometimes there was one person left sobbing into his or her lobster bisque, who needed to be mopped up and given brandy and have a car ordered.

'Fuck off,' the man muttered, jabbing his fingers at his phone.

The first words they ever spoke to each other. In retrospect, during their worst arguments, he sometimes wondered if that had been some sort of omen. He'd never, for one second, regretted that he hadn't obeyed.

Instead, he walked just a few steps past, hesitating, not really wanting to leave someone alone on a cliff in near-darkness, after he'd had a row like that and had most probably been drinking himself. He was still close enough to hear the man shouting into his phone; English and then a few broken phrases of truly execrable Spanish. Or what was meant to be Spanish, possibly

'Oh, fuck,' he muttered finally, this time aimed at the phone and whoever he'd been speaking to, and who'd presumably hung up. 'Fucking fuck.'

'Can I help?' Zechs asked, a little cool, since he'd been rebuffed before, and didn't particularly want a stream of abuse sent in his direction. 

'I am trying to call a damn cab. Note operative word; trying. No one understands English.' He'd started off confrontational but at the end it trailed off, forlorn and hopeless.

'I can do it, if you like,' he held out his hand. 'I'm not going to steal your phone,' he added, when the man hesitated.

'You'd better bloody not.' He switched it on, though and handed it over. 

 

'Where do you want to go?' When the man hesitated, clearly not wanting to give an address, Zechs elaborated. 'The drivers here won't pick you up unless they know where you're going, and a name.'

 

'Calahonda,' he said briefly, and then, even more grudgingly. 'It's an apartment complex called Los Grenados.' 

 

'I know it, yes.' It was a bit of a surprise, to be honest. He did know the apartments; he had customers who lived there, and they were mostly owned by very affluent, retired couples; not the sort of a place a young man would necessarily choose to live. 'And the name?'

 

Another hesitation, and an indignant question in Spanish on the other end of the line, wanting to know if anyone was still there. 'Duo Maxwell.'

 

'Thank you,' Zechs said, ridiculously and exaggeratedly formal, and then spoke into the phone, giving Duo's details. 'I'm sorry,' he said a minute later, returning the phone. 'It'll be at least an hour before anyone can get to you.' 

 

'You're shitting me. Seriously?' 

 

'It's a very bad time,' he elaborated. 'Most of the bars and restaurants around here close up around half eleven or twelve. And, to be honest, most drivers won't want to drive down a dirt track to pick up someone they don't know.'

 

'Great. Just fucking great. Exactly what I needed to make this the worst fucking night ever.'

 

'It's not far, you know,' Zechs suggested. 'You could walk it in less than half an hour if you go along the road. Even less if you take the boardwalk, although it's maybe a bit dark.'

 

'If I wanted to walk, I wouldn't be trying to call a freaking taxi, would I?' 

 

It was too dark to see his expression – to see anything about him really, beyond a slight figure with hunched shoulders, curled in on himself on the bench – but the snap was there in his voice. 

 

Great, really. He sat down on the other end of the bench, trying to think of a way to get Duo home. 'I know you just had a row with him, but you wouldn't consider just calling your boyfriend? I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you stranded here.'

 

'The bastard's not my boyfriend,' Duo said tightly. 'And, yeah, actually, he did.'

 

Bastard, yes, if that was true, Zechs thought. 'Right,' he said evenly. 'Listen, I only live about a kilometre inland from here. I can't drive you home because I've been drinking, but I can call my taxi service. You can wait in my house until they come.'

 

'Yeah, like I'm totally going home with some total stranger,' Duo told him, words and tone both dripping with acid scorn and sarcasm. 'Look, thanks and all for trying to help, but actually I'm fine, and I don't need someone trying to get their kicks out playing Sir Lancelot or whoever the fuck.'

 

'Sir Galahad, actually. ' Zechs spoke before he could stop himself.

 

'Oh, right, yeah, sorry for not having an expensive education that focused on people who've been dead for thousands of years, if they ever even fucking existed. My bad. Now, can you just fuck off, please? I don't need your help, and I definitely don't need whatever the hell you'll be expecting in return.'

 

'I don't want anything from you,' Zechs snapped back. 'It's not as if I'm going out of my way to help you. I'm walking home anyway. I have a phone plan so local calls are free. If you're scared to come into my house, you can wait outside the gates. 

 

'I'm not fucking scared!' He sat up straight at that, at the implied insult, brash and fierce. Zechs idly wondered how old he actually was. 

 

What he looked like.

 

'All right,' he said mildly. 'I've had enough of you swearing at me; I'm going home. Come or not. Up to you.'

 

He counted out twenty steps on the boardwalk before he heard someone behind him. In truth, he hadn't been sure if Duo would follow, or what to do if he didn't. Duo lagged behind him for the length of the path; Zechs paused every so often, pretending to admire the moonlight or, at one point, to retie the laces on one shoe. That gave Duo time to almost come up to him.

 

'If you like,' he said, deliberately not looking up from fumbling the knot in near-darkness, 'we can go up over the dunes here. It only takes about five minutes and my house is at the top. It's not that difficult, but there are a couple of places where you need to scramble a bit, and you might want to use the torch on your phone. Is that OK?'

 

'Why wouldn't it be?' Duo asked tersely. 

 

'No reason.' God. A little gratitude, or even basic civility, wouldn't kill him surely. Still, it was probably the first sentence that hadn't been laden with words of the four-letter variety. Maybe that counted as courtesy. 

 

He was halfway up before realising how far Duo was behind him. 'Are you all right?'

 

'Yeah.'

 

He'd probably say that if his limbs were all hanging off. And he very much doubted that any offer of help would be well received. Duo was clearly struggling and yes, it wasn't the easiest possible route, but he was clearly young, and had seemed fit enough. He'd been walking slowly even on the path, Zechs suddenly realised, but he'd put it down to the near-darkness and the uneven ground. He suddenly realised there could have been other reasons for that, and winced at the sudden dark thought that wormed itself into his brain, insidious. 

 

Nothing had happened while they'd been arguing; there hadn't been time, but that didn't mean there hadn't been something earlier. Oh shit. He moved back down the little track to the most awkward part, and offered Duo his hand. He took it, the first time they'd touched and Zechs found himself sorry. Duo would never have let him help if he hadn't needed it badly. 

 

He swallowed. 'Duo. The not-boyfriend. Did he hurt you?'

 

'Huh? No! No fucking way. I'd have flattened him if he'd tried.' He let Zechs help to pull him up, and didn't let go, just stood there with his head slightly tilted against the starry sky. 'Is that what you thought? I hurt my leg, is all. A while back. It aches a bit sometimes.'

 

'You should have said. We could have stayed on the path.' He moved his thumb, just a little, over Duo's skin, wondering, with an intensity that almost ached, what colour his eyes were. 

 

'Nah. I'm OK.' He squeezed Zechs' hand before pulling away, so brief a pressure that he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. 'Thanks. I'm good. Let's go.' 

 

Zechs set a slower pace this time, pausing a couple of times to help Duo over a rough patch. Now that he looking for it, he could clearly see that Duo was favouring his left leg. When they were almost at the top, he sat down on a boulder, pulling out his phone. 'I just need to send a text.' It wasn't exactly subtle, but it was the only thing he could think of, on the spur of the moment; an excuse to rest that Duo might accept before they took the pathway to his house. He keyed in Disastrous date. Call me and sent to three people, knowing that at least one of them would still be up. 

 

Quatre called back a second later, laughing at him. Zechs related the low points of the night, making it a funny story and laughing himself, very aware of Duo seated a few inches away. Near enough to touch.

 

'That's your idea of a disastrous date?' he demanded, once Zechs had dialled off. 'Seriously? You ditched the guy just because he was enthusiastic about his job, and he didn't order a fancy enough bottle of wine?' he demanded. 

 

'No, I ditched him because he talked about himself for the whole meal, and wasn't interested in anything about me. And then assumed I'd want to go home with him afterwards.'

 

'Sheesh, that's nothing.' Duo snorted. 'Dermail – oh, the guy I was with – assumed the same thing, pretty much. Just 'cause he took me to some fancy, over-priced restaurant, he was sure I'd be begging him to fuck me for dessert. And, well you heard how that turned out.'

 

'I should think half of Southern Spain heard, actually,' Zechs teased. 'And at least you got dinner bought for you. I ended up paying, because he'd apparently forgotten his credit card.'

 

'Yeah, OK, that is pretty damn bad.' Duo spluttered with laughter. 'I'd say I'm still ahead on points though. I was supposed to be getting a job from that asshole. I guess that's not gonna happen. Um. D'you mind if we move now? My leg sort of seizes up sometimes, when I'm tired, if I stay in one place.'

 

'Of course. Come on.' They walked the last few hundred metres in silence, Zechs trying to walk as slowly as possible without making it too obvious, but Duo collapsed on the chair nearest the door as soon as they were inside anyway. 

 

Zechs turned from switching the lights on, and immediately noticed three things. 

 

The stray he'd brought home was older than he'd imagined; maybe in his mid-twenties. 

 

Secondly, he was very clearly in considerable pain. However he'd played down hurting his leg, it wasn't just a scrape or sprain that would ache for a day or two.

 

'Can I get you something? A drink; brandy maybe? Or they probably wouldn't help much, but I have some mild pain-killers?'

 

'No! Uh, sorry. I don't drink and it's way too easy to get addicted to those pain-killers and stuff. Maybe a glass of water?'

 

'Of course.' In the kitchen, he took his time filling two glasses of Evian, adding ice and chunks of lemon and mint sprigs from the pot on his window-ledge, giving his unexpected guest some time to himself. Duo was on the floor when he walked back, his left leg stretched out awkwardly, and body twisted as he rubbed his knee with one hand. 

 

He let himself acknowledge the third thing then, couldn't help it. Duo Maxwell, even with his face grimacing in pain, was, unquestionably, the most striking person he had ever seen. He slammed down on the thought as soon as it surfaced in his mind; utterly wrong and inappropriate. 

 

'Here you are,' Zechs crouched down, handing him a glass. 

 

'Thanks. Um. I don't know your name.'

 

'Zechs.' 

 

'Zechs. Yeah. Thanks for everything. And sorry about before. Y'know. It's been a pretty rotten night, all things considered.'

 

'It sounds like it. Don't worry.' He put his own glass down and motioned to Duo's leg. 'Let me have a go. It's your knee, yes? The muscles?'

 

'How the hell did you know?'

 

'I broke my leg a few years ago, skiing. My physiotherapist taught me a few things. My knee used to hurt like hell for months after, so I do have some idea what it feels like. What happened to you?'

 

'Accident,' Duo said tersely, punctuating the word by putting his empty glass firmly on the floor.

 

'Are you always this talkative?'

 

There was a sudden, swift gleam of humour in Duo's eyes at the teasing, and then he swatted Zechs' hand away. 'Maybe it's not any of your fucking business. Maybe you need to stop tripping over your damn saviour complex. I never asked you to help me.'

 

'Dear God, Maxwell. I have known you for less than an hour, and you're already the most argumentative, stubborn, frustrating person I have ever met in my life.'

 

'It gets worse.'

 

'I don't doubt it for one second.'

 

Duo did manage a small grin at that, nothing more than a slight upturn of that lush, lovely mouth, but it was breath-taking. He'd be radiant if he smiled properly. He met Zechs' eyes, watching him, and a faint, fascinating colour washed over his cheekbones. 'Uh, yeah. Sorry. Again. And thanks.'

 

'My absolute pleasure.' He reached out again, laying one hand on Duo's leg. 'Tell me if this hurts, yes?'

 

Duo swallowed, audible in the silence between them, gaze fixed on Zechs' fingers, on his leg. 'It doesn't. It's good. So. This place, it's a lighthouse or something?'

 

'More or something. It's a mediaeval watchtower; there's a whole chain of them along this coast. The Arabs built them originally. It's over five hundred years old.'

 

'It's amazing.'

 

'Yes.' It was, Zechs thought so, but admittedly it wasn't to everyone's taste. 'It's a historical building,' he explained, 'so I'm not really allowed to alter anything. There are a few slit windows upstairs, and I've got skylights in my bedroom, but no natural light at all down here.' Since there was no way of letting any light in, short of knocking holes in centuries-old walls, he'd turned the ground floor into a Moorish jewel casket, glowing with antiques and rich fabrics and colours. 

 

'I like it,' Duo pronounced. 'Like an Aladdin's Cave. Very cool.'

 

'Thank you.' He rotated his palm around Duo's knee, and slowly began to inch up his thigh, careful not to press too hard, and judging how it felt by the little hitches in his breath. 'I have a modern extension out the back where my kitchen is. It took me nearly two years to get planning approval, and then only because it doesn't interfere with the original structure, and it can't be seen from the coast road.' 

 

'Wow,' Duo hissed. 'This is like the first time anyone's ever given me a lecture about planning regulations while their hand's almost on my cock.'

 

'Most guys find it a turn on,' Zechs told him, very serious, and Duo grinned. 'Do you want me to stop?'

 

'I dunno. Maybe if your hands are getting tired?'

 

'Not at all. I'm used to kneading dough.'

 

'What, you're saying I'm like pastry?' Duo made a face. 'I'm pretty sure that's not a compliment in anyone's book. You're a baker?'

 

'A chef. But I like baking, very much. And pastry. I have quite a sweet tooth actually.' He skimmed his palm over Duo's thigh, and upward a little. Inward. He pressed down. 'Yes?'

 

'Fuck, yes.'

 

'I've never in my life met anyone who swears as much as you do.'

 

That made Duo laugh; just as incredible as he'd imagined. 'I've had a fucking crap night, you know.'

 

'Oh, stop it. Shush.' He left his right hand where it was, with Duo arching up into his touch, and touched his free fingers to the other man's mouth, pressing it closed. 'Aren't things improving at all for you?'

 

'Yeah. Maybe. Might help if stopped just sitting there looking at me, and got on with kissing me?'

 

'I'm not sure,' Zechs said, teasing now. 'I'd like to, obviously, but I've seen at first hand how you react to people trying to kiss you when you don't want it. I'd rather not have this night end with you cursing me out of it. Again.'

 

'Maybe I won't.' Duo dared, challenge and invitation and entreaty all wrapped up in the tilt of his head and the quirk of his mouth. 'Only one way to find out.'

 

He'd expected the kiss to be a battle, because God knew everything else with him was, but those plush lips parted at the first touch of his, sweet and warm and pliant. Zechs half-laughed, surprised, delighted, wholly entranced, and then kissed him again.

 

'Oh, now we're getting somewhere.' Duo pulled back, just a little, still close enough for Zechs to feel the warmth of breath on skin from his words, from the little huff of almost-laughter when Zechs' hand squeezed a certain place, considerably less gentle than he'd been with the leg. 'I'd ask you to fuck me,' he whispered, those immense violet eyes sparkling with mischief and spiked with something darker, 'but you'd just complain about me swearing at you again.' 

 

'I might make an exception for you,' he breathed, fingers curving around Duo, hard enough to make him gasp. 'Just this once.'

 

It was morning when he woke up properly, late enough that the rim of clear glass on the skylight about his bed was showing a narrow margin of bright blue, around the dark linen shade. Morning, definitely; almost midday, he confirmed, glancing at his watch. He hadn't slept much; neither of them had. They'd dozed intermittently in fits and starts, but then there'd be kisses pressed along a swathe of bare skin, or a stray caress, or a few whispered words scattered into the pool of velvet darkness. The pair of them had been far too enchanted with discovering each other, and exactly how many ways they could fit together to waste time on mere sleep; far too focused on exploring what precise combinations of lips and tongue and fingers could result in a catch of breath at over-stimulation that was almost-but-not-quite-pain, or a low moan of pleasure, or a stream of curses from Duo, interspersed with ragged, pleading gasps of Zechs' name.

 

He should have been tired, really, considering, Zechs reflected idly. He wasn't, remotely. He had Duo in his bed, curled in his arms, like he'd never been anywhere else in his life. He'd never be anywhere else again, if Zechs had his way, and certainly not with anyone else. That was a scary, unexpected thought for many reasons, not least because Duo would probably fight him every step of the way. It was always a fight. Almost always. A few significant, glorious exceptions. He'd started to argue with the way Zechs had arranged them, though, himself wrapped around Duo's slighter body, claiming that he wasn't some damn girl to be cuddled. Zechs had just laughed, and said he was perfectly aware that Duo wasn't any kind of a girl, and then very effectively proved it. Afterwards, there'd been no more arguments. 

 

He wasn't going to be bored anyway, Zechs decided, smiling to himself. Half-dead with exhaustion most of the time, quite probably, but he could survive that. And enjoy it immensely; if there were more mornings like this. Sheerest perfection. Duo was gorgeous; bright, funny, fascinating. Perfect. He dropped a kiss on the top of Duo's rumpled head, winding a finger through the clouds of tumbled, tangled hair. It was thicker than his own, with a slight wave to it, and every shade of brown in the universe, shot through with sunlit threads of copper and gold. Oh, perfection, undoubtedly. He wrapped one lock around his finger, idly playful, and felt Duo stir slightly.

 

He started to smile, incandescent, and then suddenly something slammed down behind those glorious eyes, and he made a grab for the sheet, pulling it over himself.

 

'Duo, don't. Please. I've already seen it.'

 

Duo sniffed, fingers wrapped so tightly around the fabric that his knuckles showed white. 'Then you know exactly how hideous it looks.'

 

'There is not one ugly thing about you,' Zechs said sincerely. 'Duo, truly.' He leaned down, coaxing Duo's lips with his own until they opened for him. 'You are beyond stunning. Beyond anything.' He slid the sheet back down and bent to kiss the knee, brushing kisses along the biggest of the scars on his thigh. 'I'm sorry that it still hurts you. I'm sorry if anyone's ever said anything that implied you weren't still perfect.' Someone had, at some point, and he knew that as well as he knew how to breathe. The not-boyfriend had, even, although he hadn't understood then, telling Duo he was lucky that anyone wanted to be with him, in the circumstances. 'But you are very truly the most exquisite person I have ever seen in my entire life.'

 

'You asked me, last night, how it happened,' Duo said, abrupt and a little shaky. 'This is how. Over a year ago now. I was working for this guy on L2. This CEO. He collected vintage cars; I was his private mechanic. It was like my total dream job; you've no idea. I don't know, like you'd probably like to work in some fancy restaurant with those stars. What're they called?'

 

'Michelin,' Zechs said quietly. His restaurant had three. He'd never ached so much just from the pain in someone's voice. 

 

'Right. Yeah. God, those cars. The most beautiful things you've ever seen. Dunno if you've ever been to L2, but there's not this huge amount of pretty stuff.'

 

Even less now, Zechs thought. He didn't say it; Duo didn't need words. Instead, he resettled them carefully, holding Duo. 

 

'Anyway. The guy had this son, Tony. He was sixteen or seventeen, I forget. He was into cars like his dad, and he liked knowing how they worked. He used to help me out, sometimes, after school. He was a nice kid.'

 

Duo, Zechs reflected, had probably only been a handful of years older, but worlds away from the privileged teenager. 

 

'Yeah, anyway.' Duo shifted restlessly against him; this time, Zechs let him go, let Duo settle himself, one arm propped up on a pillow. 'His dad wasn't too keen, wanted him to focus on his studies and school and all that, so he used to sneak out sometimes, early and mess around in the garage, before I got there even. I used to tell him not to, made him swear he'd never do anything much, but I didn't want to tell his dad and get him in trouble. So, this one morning, I was a bit late getting to their place 'cause there was some public transport strike and I had to walk a lot of the way. There was one car, a Lotus. It was like this total one-off model, that my boss had just had imported from Earth. Tony was fucking in love with it; he was convinced his dad was gonna give it to him as a graduation present, when he finished high school. Anyhows. Before I'd left, the night before, I'd had it all set up for a full service; they need it, y'know, after the shuttle flight. So,' he said, his voice becoming brisk and impersonal, 'I got to the garage, and he had the car up on the hoist, but he hadn't rigged it properly and I could see the chains were gonna snap, and he was fucking underneath, and God, I didn't even think, I managed to knock him out of the way, I still dunno how I fucking managed and .... You can guess the rest.' 

 

'The car fell on you.'

 

'On my leg, yeah. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed, off my head on morphine and this fancy lawyer guy was telling me I had two options. My boss knew I'd saved his son's life, and he was willing to give me this big one-off payment in gratitude, but I'd have to sign all kinds of shit saying I wasn't holding him responsible, that it'd just been an accident. Option two was I could try taking him to court, but it could drag on for years, and I'd probably get nothing in the end, and all he'd get was maybe a small fine. Oh, and as I didn't have any medical insurance, I'd end up having my leg amputated, 'cause I couldn't afford any other treatments.'

 

'You took it?'

 

'Hell, no.' Duo's teeth showed in what was nothing like a smile. 'I fucking haggled. Got nearly twice the amount; I knew all along that no one wanted a court case. My boss didn't want the cops sniffing around anywhere near him; didn't want his kid getting any kind of blot on his record before applying to college. So I took the money and spent nearly ten months getting my leg put back together and then took the first shuttle to Madrid.'

 

'I'm very glad you did. Why Spain, may I ask?'

 

Duo shrugged. 'Sure. There was a poster in my ward. This little side street in a town in Spain somewhere. Didn't say where, exactly. Y'know, cobbled streets, and white houses and those bright pink flowers. Bougainvillea. I'd never seen anything so pretty. I just wanted to be there, in that poster. Always had this dream, coming to Earth, living near the sea. Opening my own business.'

 

'That's what you're going to do?'

 

'Yep, got a premises and everything. Swish place in Marbella. Fancy address. Thought this'd be a good place to set up; lots of rich people around here, right?'

 

'Yes. So, you're opening a garage?'

 

'Kinda, yeah. More a place to restore vintage cars, motorbikes, y'know? Maybe source 'em for people. I love old cars. Classics. They've got, I dunno, personality. Not like cars today, they're all run on computer chips. Uh, sorry,' he broke off. 'I go on about this stuff way too much. No one gets it.'

 

'I like it,' Zechs smiled, liking his enthusiasm. 'So, can I ask, the man last night? You said you were going to work for him.'

 

'Uh, not really. I got his name a few weeks ago from someone I used to know on L2. He collects vintage cars; he was looking for a mechanic to keep on retainer. Y'know, someone he could call if there was a problem, who'd be available when he wanted.' His mouth twisted. 'Guess he wanted me to be more available that I'd planned. Last night was supposed to be to talk about work. Yeah, and wasn't I the clueless idiot for believing him? Not like it's the first time it's happened; not even close. All these rich assholes have fantasies about fucking their mechanics.'

 

'Really? What a shame you didn't tell me your job last night. I could have ticked you off my fantasy list.'

 

'Oh, fuck you,' Duo groused, but he was grinning, and he let himself drop down to the mattress, resting his head on Zechs' shoulder. 

 

'If you like, yes.' Zechs slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 'Tell me all about these mechanic fantasies? What do they want you to wear: dirty overalls and a tool-belt? Bending over the bonnet of the car or on the back seat? I could maybe get into that.'

 

'I already said, fuck you,' Duo retorted, without any heat whatsoever, and violet eyes sparkling.

 

'I already said I wouldn't be averse.'

 

'Yeah, we'll have to see about that.' Duo titled his head up, just a little, and Zechs obligingly bent and kissed him. 'I'll have to come up with some nice kinky chef fantasies.'

 

'I'm very good with an egg whisk,' Zechs informed him.

 

'I bet you are,' Duo said darkly. 'Not bad without one either.'

 

'I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far,' Zechs smiled at him. 'I'm sorry about what happened last night, truly. But I'm very glad you're here.'

 

'Yeah. So. Here I am. What happens next?' 

 

'Breakfast,' Zechs said promptly. 'Then we'll see. I wouldn't object if you wanted to drag me back up here, or I have a very private garden. I'd like to show you the rest of the house too. But primarily, the plan involves a great deal of food and sex.' He leaned over and gave Duo a quick kiss on the mouth. 'Acceptable?'

 

Duo shrugged, grinning. 'Just about, I guess.'

 

'You,' Zechs kissed him again, 'are an extremely demanding person, aren't you?'

 

'Well, duh. It's taken you that long to notice that?'

 

'It took me about five minutes, last night. Now, what would you like to eat?'

 

'Dunno.' Duo stretched, a very deliberate, decadent arch of that lovely body. 'Is there anything special you'd like to have yourself?'

 

'I'm not quite sure,' Zechs laughed, light and breathless. I may need to sample a couple of things before I decide.'

 

After, they lay half-dozing in a splash of sunlight, Zechs idly sliding one hand through Duo's hair, enjoying the way the sunbeams picked out the brighter strands, gilding the few freckles splashed over his pale skin.

 

'I thought you were gonna make me breakfast, Mr. Chef,' Duo muttered. 

 

'I did offer, but you didn't seem very hungry.' He squirmed back as one long, pointed finger poked into his ribs, a place Duo had already found out was ticklish, and caught the hand as it extended to poke him again. 'Stop that.' He raised Duo's fingers to his mouth, sucking each in turn between his lips and biting gently.

 

'No, you don't,' Duo said briskly, although he paired the tone with a low chuckle and a press of his fingertips against Zechs' mouth. 'Not this again. Not unless you feed me first.'

 

'Endlessly demanding,' Zechs grumbled, purely for form's sake, and slid out of bed. Duo shifted over to his side of the mattress, watching appreciatively as he pulled on the jeans he'd been wearing the night before. They'd pulled most of each other's clothes off on the way upstairs, but his jeans had made it all the way to the bedroom, and there was one sad-looking sock hanging off the door knob. 

 

'Mmm,' Duo leered. 'You don't need to get dressed on my account. I'm enjoying the view way too much.'

 

He grinned, bending down to drop a kiss on Duo's mouth. 'I take it you've never tried cooking naked, have you? I wouldn't recommend it. Stay there. I'll bring a tray up.'

 

'Breakfast in bed, huh?' Duo was smiling at him when he stood back, open and incandescent. 'Don't take too long. I'm pretty hungry now, after all that rolling around.'

 

'I'll hurry,' Zechs promised. 'If you get lonely, just come downstairs. It's the door directly opposite the staircase.'

 

He was smiling as he ran downstairs. He possibly hadn't stopped smiling since he'd kissed Duo, touched him, the night before. He'd make French toast, he decided; something light and sweet and fragrant. He had fresh raspberries from the garden, and a brioche that he'd brought home from the restaurant the day before, just in cast the date with the accountant had turned out well enough to stretch into bed-and-breakfast. Well, it hadn't, but everything had turned out perfectly all the same. 

 

No complaints, whatsoever, he thought, still smiling as he sliced the loaf. It was one of the very first things he'd learned to cook, when he'd been seven or eight. His father had served as the Sanqian ambassador for four years, and the embassy chef had been kind to the bored, frustrated little boy Zechs had been back then, struggling to adapt to a new country, and a new school and new classmates who'd known each other for ever, with his parents far too busy with official engagements, and Relena too small to be much of a companion. He'd spent hours in the kitchens, until his mother found out her only son was wasting his time hob-nobbing with servants. Of course, once she'd forbidden him to go near the kitchen, it had been even more tempting. 

 

French toast, almonds, and some little dishes of syrup and fruit sauce just in case Duo liked getting creative with his food. 

 

'Did you get lonely?' he asked after ten minutes, hearing the door open, and turning around.

 

'Got hungry,' Duo retorted. 'Thanks to you not being able to keep your hands off me. Or the rest of you.'

 

'Mm. Still a problem for me, I'm afraid. And I apologise in advance for this.' He prudently moved both pots off the heat, and pulled Duo towards him, and into a long kiss. 

 

'Huh. Just as well you apologised,' Duo groused, propping himself against the edge of the table, and looking perfectly happy with his life. 'The things I have to put up in this place to get fed.'

 

'Shocking, yes. Do you think you can wait five minutes, before starving to death?'

 

'Maybe. Oh.' He looked around. 'This is nice. Not what I'd expected.'

 

The kitchen annexe was a total contrast to the rest of the tower; two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows; with the sea on one side, and his garden on the other, flooded with light and dancing sunbeams. It was a lovely room that Zechs had helped to design, a room he loved, and Duo Maxwell, barefoot and with his hair in a messy knot, definitely improved it. 

 

'I guess you really are a proper chef, huh?' Duo asked, pulling himself on to the table, and hooking his bad leg over a chair, watching him stir the raspberry coulis. 

 

'I really am. What did you think; that I worked at McDonalds?'

 

'I guess not. But this looks seriously fancy. You know. Gourmet shit.'

 

'Not shit,' Zechs reproved, reaching around him to give that perfect backside a light swat with his wooden spoon, and then handing Duo a plate. 'Voila. For monsieur's dining pleasure. Brioche French toast with raspberry coulis, toasted almonds and maple cream. Shall we go outside? It's a lovely day. I have a couple of reclining chairs; you'll be able to put your leg up.'

 

'I'm fine,' Duo said, quick, automatically defensive. 

 

'Very fine, yes.' He hadn't missed the little signs though; the way Duo had carefully positioned himself with a resting-place for his leg, and the faint grimace of pain. Going down the steep stairs probably hadn't helped anything; he'd managed to go up all right, the night before, but Zechs had been half-carrying him at that point anyway, and neither of them probably would have noticed if both legs had fallen off, provided other body parts had remained intact and in working order.

 

'Come on. I want to show you the view.' He didn't wait for an answer, but headed outside.

 

'Wow,' Duo gasped, looking around. 'Wow, total wow. Can I move in here?'

 

'Of course.' Zechs took his favourite chair, and motioned Duo to take the other, sitting back and looking at his favourite place in the world; at the eternity of sunlit, sparkling sea and sky. 

 

'I was only joking.' Duo bit his lip and looked very fixedly at the horizon. 'I should be going anyway.'

 

'Yes, I know. I'll take you, once we've finished eating.' Zechs said, his level tone a total contrast to how he was feeling. Internally begging Duo to stay. 'So was I, really. But you're more than welcome to stay for as long as you like.'

 

'Yeah. Right. So.' Duo glanced over at him. 'Tell me something. You've kinda got a lot going for you. Why's someone like you single? I mean, you are, right?'

 

Zechs nodded. 'Of course. And you?'

 

'Oh.' Duo took a sudden interest in his juice, plucking out the segment of orange Zechs had positioned on the side of the glass, and starting to strip the peel off. 'Yeah. Kinda bad break up after the accident. No one much since then.'

 

'I'm sorry.'

 

'Don't be. He was a fucking asshole. I was better off without him. I always pick total losers. Or they pick me. Whatever.'

 

He was very clearly trying to be offhand about it all, and equally clearly wanted Zechs to treat it the same way. No sympathy expected or appreciated.

 

'Well, I hope I'm not a loser, exactly, but I do have a very demanding job. I started my own restaurant about six years ago. That doesn't leave a lot of time for dating. And it's terribly anti-social; I have to be there in the evenings and weekends. People tend to get tired of me never being able to do anything with them. And I'm told I'm overly obsessed with food.'

 

'That sucks.' Duo was suddenly very focused on his plate, cutting perfect squares of toast, and dipping each one, just so, in the raspberries. 'I'm not fancy, y'know. I'm a pizza-and-burger person. I'm not into all this foofy stuff. I mean, last night was great and all, but we've got fuck-all in common.'

 

'Possibly, but I think we seem to be getting on rather well. You like my house. I like cooking and you seem to like eating my food.' He arched an eyebrow, and Duo nodded, very enthusiastically. 'And we both seemed to enjoy being in bed together. And out of it. I can make you the most perfect hamburger in the universe. A Duo-burger.' He grinned at the idea of it, and then sobered. Duo wasn't smiling. 'I'm not proposing, you know. Just saying I'd like to spend more time with you. Possibly go on an actual date.'

 

'You're asking me out? Seriously?' Impossible to read his expression.

 

'Yes. Why not? Dinner; a drive along the coast. I can take you sailing if you like boats. I like you, Duo. Is that so hard to believe?'

 

Duo hunched one shoulder in a graceless shrug, and Zechs suddenly wanted to find every person who'd somehow made Duo Maxwell ever feel that he was less than perfection incarnate and strangle them with his bare hands. 

 

'Dunno. I'm not the easiest person to be with.'

 

'You're a lovely person to be with,' Zechs said sincerely. 'Let me take you out. Please? Just dinner, carino.'

 

'Huh.' Duo's eyes narrowed. 'What's that mean?'

 

'An attractive but very annoying person.'

 

'I don't believe you.'

 

'No,' Zechs admitted. 'It's an endearment, meant for someone you're fond of.'

 

'You don't know me,' Duo said flatly, jaw snapping shut on the final syllable and mouth thinning to near invisibility. 

 

'Well. I do, just a little. And I'd like to get to know you more. Yes?'

 

'Dunno if I want to go anywhere with you.' His expression did soften, just a little, though. 'You took me out last night, and you dragged me up a freaking mountain in the dark.'

 

'A sand dune,' Zechs corrected. 'And that wasn't actually me taking you out, may I add. It was me taking you home. I don't think you have any complaints about what happened after that.'

 

'Jeez,' Duo muttered. 'You're full of yourself, aren't you? No wonder you're single.'

 

'Ouch.' He feigned a wounded look, that rather quickly morphed into a smile, watching Duo. Watching Duo sitting on his terrace eating raspberries and threatening to leave, but actually looking rather comfortable. 'How about tonight?'

 

Duo shook his head. 'I haven't even said I'd go out with you yet. But I'd kinda like to see your restaurant maybe.'

 

'Anything you like. And maybe you'll even let me kiss you at the end of the night, if I behave myself. Or you can yell at me if you'd prefer.'

 

'Maybe.' His gaze, trained on Zechs' face, was very direct. 

 

'Just maybe, hmmm? What about now?' 

 

'What about now what?'

 

'This what?' He put his plate down, almost empty now, and crossed the few steps between them, bending down. Duo didn't yell at him. Duo tasted of everything that was delicious in the world; ripe raspberries and cream and sugar and a hint of spice. Sunlight and lazy mornings and laughter.

 

'So, what time shall I pick you up?' He pulled back just a little to ask the question. 'Or, if you liked, you could just stay here all day, and we can leave together.' 

 

'Jeez. I didn't even say I'd go with you yet, and you're already planning my whole life out for me! You got some fucking ego on you, y'know that?'

 

'So I've been told, yes.' He crouched down at Duo's side. 'You did say you wanted to see my restaurant,' he tempted. 'We can do that. And then come back here, and do a little more of this.' 

 

'Oh, we're back to this now, are we?' Duo canted his head, invitation clearly written on the curve of his lips, the curl of his fingers around Zechs' hand. 'Yeah, OK, fine. But I'll be wanting breakfast in the morning again.'

 

'Endlessly demanding,' Zechs chided, smiling. Demanding, yes, and utterly, beyond perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I don't own any part of GW, sadly, and make no financial profit from writing. As always, many, many thanks to the amazing wonderful Kaeru Shisho. 

 

Anything but Perfect:

Chapter 2 / 2:

 

Zechs had offered to come in with him, even just to wait at the reception desk, but Duo had told him not to bother. It wasn’t like he was a little kid going to the dentist, needing someone to hold his hand while he received the bad news that all his teeth were going to have to come out.

Walking out of Heero’s office, he was regretting it; it would have been nice to see a friendly face waiting for him, instead of the stuck-up receptionist who quite clearly didn’t think he was good enough to be in her snazzy bank.

‘Duo, I’m so sorry,’ Heero said uncertainly, following him out.

Duo shrugged. ‘It's not your fault. Not like I wasn’t expecting it. And thanks again for all your help. Really.’

‘I haven’t done very much. Just think about what I’ve said, all right? You still have options.’

‘Yeah. Maybe, I guess. I’ll see you, OK?’ He ignored Heero’s formally outstretched hand and pulled the other man into a quick half-hug, since they’d become friends over the past year, and he knew that Heero really did want to help, and looked about as wretched about it all as Duo himself felt.

Heero stiffened, just for a second, then hugged him back. ‘Call me, all right? When you’ve had a chance to think about things.’

‘Sure.’ Duo gave the prissy receptionist a little wave, just to piss her off, and swung down the stairs, thoughts whirling. He was at street level before he even realised it, blinking as he walked out into the sunlight.

Huh. Imagine that. 

He actually managed a faint smile, as he closed the door behind him with a decided click. One good thing on a hellish day. Another good thing: it was gorgeous out, as per usual in July. Blue skies all the way in Marbella; cobbled streets and dazzlingly white buildings wreathed in flowers.

What he’d first loved about Spain, from the very first, escaping from a seemingly endless winter on L2. A burnt-blue sky and vivid sprays of bougainvillea.

Instant depression-busting happiness.

They weren’t working today.

Zechs was waiting for him at the little café near where he'd parked. He took one look at his face and started to rise, sinking back down at a wave of Duo’s hand.

‘Just stay there for a sec, will you? And focus on looking super-hot?’

‘You don’t think I always look super-hot?’ Zechs drawled. ‘I’m devastated.’ He obeyed though, tilting his head to make the long swathe of shimmering gilt hair fall over his shoulder just so, and stretching out those infinity-and-beyond legs.

God. 

It should be illegal to look like that; double-damn illegal to know just how to use it. Given the height and the hair, he pretty much always looked like a model, even when he was just slopping around at home in ancient sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt covered in food stains. In his linen suit and Panama hat, you'd steal him. Anyone would. Even if they didn't know the way he cooked. Or what he was like in bed.

Duo had never met anyone so in tune with his own body, with the effect it had on other people. He'd thought it was arrogance, pure and simple, at the start, and yeah, there was a fairish bit of that involved, but a lot of it was just a very handsome man who was very comfortable with how he looked. Oh, and was highly aware of it. Arrogance really, when you got down to it. 

Impossible not to admire, though, even on the worst possible day.

He gave a slightly reluctant grin. ‘You do, yeah. But since pretty much everything else in my life is screwed up right now, I really need to know that I’ve got a sexy-as-fuck boyfriend.’

‘Which you very definitely do,’ Zechs smirked, and then stood up, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. ‘What did Heero say?’

‘What you said all along he was going to say. Can we not talk about it right now?’

‘All right.’ Because he was fundamentally a kind person, he forbore from saying I told you so, and instead took Duo’s hand, curling his own around it. ‘Come on. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll buy you an ice-cream, and then we’ll discuss it.’

Duo decided to ignore the second part of that sentence, letting Zechs lead him out to the street. They didn't do the public hand-holding thing all that much, but it felt oddly good, given everything. ‘I'm not a kid, Zee. You can't just give me sweeties and make everything better. I know you think that every problem can be solved with the right food, but it actually doesn’t work like that.’

‘Oh, hush, carino,’ Zechs chided him lightly. ‘Let me remind you that I make a very good living catering to people who believe that food can make the world a better place. And there’s a new gelataria in Orange Square that I want to try.’

'OK, fine,' Duo muttered, knowing he was being a graceless, ungrateful idiot. 'If you're paying. Since you're the only one of us making any kind of decent living.' 

'We'll sort it out, Duo,' Zechs said, giving him a quick, searching look, and a squeeze of his hand. 

Duo squeezed back, and let Zechs make light conversation as they walked up the little cobbled street, not really bothering to listen. In the ice-cream place, he chose a lemon sorbet, as something sour enough to suit his mood, and stood back, letting Zechs discuss ingredients and flavours with the owner. His Spanish wasn't bad, after nearly fifteen months, and he had an especially extensive food-related vocabulary; he just wasn't in the mood for lengthy discussions of whether or not the fruit had been sourced locally. 

It was an occupational hazard of dating a chef who also happened to be a total foodie; he was pretty much used to it now. Personal boyfriend-ly crises inevitably took second place to discovering a new organic olive oil supplier, or a local bee-keeper who was producing a new flavor of wild honey.

It was a bit of a relief at the moment, not needing to have The Talk anyway, even if it was only a momentary reprieve, because Zechs would want to know all the gory details eventually, probably sooner rather than later. In the end, he got a bit bored, and wandered outside, choosing one of the little tables on the terrace, and trying to focus on the taste of his sorbet which wasn't awful, suitably sour but a bit too synthetic, trying not to think about stuff. He was pretty good at that. He'd managed to keep his head firmly buried in the sand, more or less, for the past few months.

He'd picked a good table, nicely shaded under an orange tree, but with a clear view of Zechs inside the little shop. 

Duo was OK-looking, apart from the lower left half of him; maybe more than that when he made the effort, but he couldn’t hold a candle to his boyfriend. He’d meant to change for his meeting at the bank, but he’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes to the garage, and then he'd been running late and hadn’t had time to go home. Not that it would have made a difference, he thought glumly, even if he had turned up in his one-and-only suit and a tie borrowed from Zechs, instead of his work clothes; an Angry Birds t-shirt that was getting to the faded and baggy stage, and ripped jeans.

Shit, he should have gone and changed. At least the snooty bank receptionist mightn't have looked at him quite so pityingly. 

Shit, anyway. Fuck it. He still had Zechs, even if he was going to lose everything else that meant anything to him. Still had his dream guy. 

‘How's your sorbet?’

‘It’s OK. Not great.’ He would have handed the little cardboard bowl over for Zechs to try, but he wouldn't eat something so strongly lemon-flavoured before going into work, claiming the intense taste would mess up his palate.

‘Just OK? Not as good as the one we make in the restaurant?’

Duo grinned at him, and helped himself to another spoonful, making a performance out of it. ‘Nah, nothing near as good as that one you brought home last week. Especially the way you served it. Very interesting presentation. Unusual mix of flavours too,’ he added, trying to sound innocent and darting a quick glance across the table as he twirled his tongue around the little plastic spoon. Zechs was practically cross-eyed, watching him, and there was a very interesting faint wash of colour across his cheekbones that made Duo’s grin widen; he didn’t get to make Zechs blush very often, but he knew exactly what the blond was thinking. About the time Zechs had brought a little carton of thyme-infused citrus sorbet home for them to eat in bed; about it melting on Zechs' chest, and ending up in all sorts of interesting areas and needing to be licked clean. Fuck. He was suddenly hard, just thinking about it, and flushing himself.

Zechs' smile sprouted a slight predatory edge, and then he tipped his Panama back and flicked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. ‘Ready to talk about it?’

‘Nope.’

‘Duo. Querido. Tell me.’

‘You already know most of it,’ Duo muttered. ‘I’m out of cash; I seriously have about enough to pay this month's overheads and that's it. And I did ask Heero about raising a loan with my apartment as collateral but he said it was a pretty stupid idea. I feel kinda mean for making him feel bad.’

'It's his job.'

'Yeah.' Duo plopped his spoon into the cup; the sorbet was gone all gloopy, and hadn't been that great to begin with, over-synthetic and watery, and he didn't really want any more. 'OK, he said he couldn't technically refuse, if I really wanted to take out a mortgage, but he very seriously advised against it. That if business went on the way it's been going, I'd only end up losing the apartment as well.'

‘I see. So, what’s the plan?’

‘No fucking plan,’ Duo said sourly. ‘I dunno. Go back to that bastard Dermail and beg for my job back. He’d maybe take me if I bent down fast enough.’

‘You’re not doing that.’

‘No. I know. I'm not serious. I'm kind of out of plans. You know the worst bit? Having to go in to work tomorrow and tell Howie and Hils that they're both out of work.' It would be well nigh impossible for either of them to get anything else, since most decent businesses wouldn't want to hire mechanics with no formal qualifications, one of whom was getting on a bit and pretty damn cranky, and the other a very outspoken women who didn't believe in taking crap from anyone. The fact that they both had prison records wasn't much help either.

'Maybe we should start some sort of car-theft business,' he muttered. 'It's not like we don't have experience. Shit, between the three of us, we'd probably do pretty well. Better than we are at the moment, that's for sure.' 

Zechs accorded him a perfunctory smile, but didn't look like he found it terribly funny. 'All right,' he said, suddenly crisp. 'Let's stop wallowing, shall we? And try to work this out.'

'I don't want you giving me money.' Duo could feel himself colour, just a little, as he spoke. It wasn't like he hadn't considered it as an option, once or twice, and rejected it immediately. He might be a total loser but he wasn't a charity case who'd go scrounging off his super-successful boyfriend. 

'I wasn't planning to.' Zechs pulled out a Moleskine notebook and one of those Swiss pens that probably cost more than every piece of stationery Duo had ever used in his whole life. Actually, there was no probably about it if you took into account all the cheap, crappy biros and bits of paper torn off the edges of calendars and old receipts or invoices. 'You have a cash flow problem, yes?'

'Actually, the problem is more that I don't have any cash to flow,' Duo quipped weakly. 'But, yeah. I guess you could call it that. Plus, I'm a crap businessman.'

'Inexperienced, let's say,' Zechs said generously. 'Didn't Heero have any suggestions?'

'Sort of,' Duo muttered, digging the little plastic spoon out of the messily-melting sorbet, and twirling it between two fingers. 'He said my overheads are too high. I pay a crazy amount of rent for the garage, and I've got too many cars in stock.'

Zechs nudged his foot under the table. 'He's perfectly right, you know that.' He drew a little column of figures on a blank page. 

Duo tried to focus on those long fingers, on what they could do, and not on what they were currently doing. Reducing his life's ambition, all his dreams, to a list of numbers on paper, before showing him how impossible this all was. It wasn't like they hadn't gone over the sums before, several times in the past few months, but every time he'd made a big sale just in the nick of time, enough to pay off his more pressing debts and keep the garage afloat for that little bit longer. 

'All right.' Zechs stopped writing, finally, and reached over to touch Duo's hand. 'Your biggest expense by far is the rent on the garage, yes?' 

Duo nodded. 'I can't do anything about that, though. I still have nearly twelve months on the lease.'

'You could sub-let. I've gone through your contract. You could find somewhere much cheaper.'

'I know. It's just – I've spent pretty much all of my life working in cruddy back street garages. I wanted something different. Something better.'

'You can find somewhere perfectly adequate for half the price you're paying, or less,' Zechs said levelly. 

Duo glanced over at him, and then looked away from the sympathy in those blue eyes. Zechs knew, damnit, just how much the place meant to him, to have the shiny, swanky premises in an upmarket area of Marbella, just a block from the sea. 'I need somewhere classy,' he grouched. 'You know that. The sorts of clients I want, they won't go to some dive in a back alley. And I know what you're going to say, and no. Fuck, Zechs.'

'Duo, listen to me. You had a good business idea, a wonderful one, really, but so far it hasn't worked out quite as you hoped.'

'No, 'cause that fucker Dermail goes around badmouthing me to everyone who'll listen, just 'cause I wouldn't let him fuck me,' Duo snapped.

'I know, I know,' Zechs soothed. 'Be that as it may, tesoro, you have to face facts. You're an excellent mechanic; there's no reason why you can't run a maintenance service and keep the classic cars as a sideline.'

'Yeah, there is. I've been a greaser since I was thirteen, Zed. That's over ten years doing the shittiest jobs you can imagine, and sure, I was good at it, and it was good experience and all that, but I thought this time I was going to have something different. Something better. How'd you feel if the restaurant went belly-up tomorrow? Would you go and work in McDonalds'?'

'If I had nothing else, yes,' Zechs said evenly. 'Of course, my soul would probably die a little bit each day, but I'd do it until something else came up, and watch for every possible opportunity.'

Duo grinned, faint but there. 'You'd be cooking the fries in truffle oil. Yeah, I get you. At least, it'd keep jobs for Howie and Hilde. You're right. D'you never get tired of that?'

'Certainly not. There is one other thing.'

'Does it involve us going to the apartment and you shagging me 'til I don't care about any of this?'

'Well. Later, yes. It does involve your apartment.'

‘No. No!' He could – just – envisage parting with the garage. Not the apartment. 'I’m not selling it.’

‘No,’ Zechs agreed, ‘but you could let it also. That would be a guaranteed income for you, irrespective of how the garage does. And you'd have no problem finding a tenant, given the location.’

‘I guess.' It hurt, though, imagining some total strangers living in his home. The first place he'd ever owned. His dream apartment with a wrap-around terrace overlooking the sea, set in gardens of citrus trees and hibiscus and roses. 'Where would I live, though? If I still needed to pay rent, it mightn't be worth it.’

‘You’d move in with me,’ Zechs said, as matter of fact as if he was talking about their dinner plans. More, probably, since he always got super-enthusiastic when food was involved.

‘You think we’re ready for that?’

‘We won’t know unless we try. It’s been over a year.’

‘Yeah, and we’ve come close to breaking up how many times?’

‘And never actually have,’ Zechs noted. ‘You’ll be under a considerable obligation to me if you’re living in my house. Maybe you’ll be slightly less argumentative. A little more accommodating even.’

‘Dream on, Merquise,’ Duo scoffed. ‘ Not gonna happen.’

‘I never for a second thought it would.’

‘What if we actually broke up for real? Worst case scenario?’

‘Then we come to some agreement. I wouldn't exactly throw you out on the street. I have a fairly big house; we could organize our schedules so we hardly saw each other. We'd work something out until you found something else.'

Duo swallowed; it wasn't like they hadn't discussed it, once or twice. Wasn't like they spent most of their free time together, anyway. But he loved his apartment; loved having his own space, and it hurt, having to think about giving it up.

'Yeah,' he said finally. 'I'll think about it.' It was a pretty crappy reaction to your boyfriend asking you to move in, all things considered. 'Sorry,' he added. 'Zee, that's really nice of you. And I will think about it. It's just...'

'I can imagine,' Zechs said softly. 'Duo, you don't have to decide anything straightaway. Give yourself a little time, yes? And stop being so hard on yourself.'

'Yeah,' Duo repeated, nodding at Zechs' almost empty water glass. 'Finished? You wanna go?'

'I should, yes. Are you going back to the garage?'

Duo shook his head, resolute. Hilde and Howie knew about the meeting; they'd have all kinds of questions, and he wasn't ready for that. 'I don't think so; I said I mightn't be back. Any chance I can convince you to play hooky? Come to the beach with me? We can take a walk, go for a swim, and then find a nice deserted sand-dune and get sand in all sorts of interesting places.'

Zechs did look tempted, but he shook his head. 'I can't, carino, you know that. Not today. But I'll try to finish early.'

'OK, yeah. Give me a shout when you're done. You can come over.'

'You're going back to your apartment then?'

Duo shrugged, standing up, and shoving his chair back with a tad more force than he'd actually intended. 'Might as well, yeah. Might as well make the most of it while it's still mine,' he added bitchily, and then felt like kicking himself up the ass. 'Sorry, seriously. Again. I'm being a jerk.'

'You're having a very bad day,' Zechs said kindly, standing up himself and taking Duo into his arms. 

'Still not fair taking it out on you,' Duo mumbled, letting himself be pulled even closer. Marbella was pretty cosmopolitan, and it wasn't like you didn't see same sex couples being fairly affectionate in public, but they'd always kept things fairly low key, although he supposed the shady corner of a quiet terrace wasn't really all that public. It felt damn good, though. It always did, Zechs holding him like that. 

'Oh. Hey. One cool thing did happen at the bank. I walked down those two flights of stairs from Heero's office without even noticing them.'

Zechs smiled. 'A very cool thing, then. You've done it at home a few times lately as well. I wasn't sure if you realised.'

'Not really. Guess I'm not very observant. I just thought – I didn't think I was ever going to get properly better.' He was smiling back, suddenly, and then Zechs kissed him. 'Wow. You totally sure you can't take the afternoon off?' 

'Don't tempt me,' Zechs muttered, looking incredibly tempted. 'Duo, corazon, you know...'

'Yeah, I know. I get it. Just get away as soon as you can, yeah? And um. I might go back to your place. Is that OK?'

'Of course, mi Lucero.' He touched Duo's cheek, very gently. 'Eat something. Have a swim. Lie in the sun for a bit. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise.'

'OK.' Duo managed a bit of a smile; it wasn't much, but fuck, it was hard not to smile at Zechs, looking at him like that, and calling him that name. Duo sometimes said babe, or played around with variants of his boyfriend's name, but Zechs had a tonne of Spanish pet-names he used, and that particular one always made Duo melt. 

Mi Lucero. My bright star. 

He gave Zechs another quick kiss on the mouth. Well, he'd meant it to be quick. 'Thanks, Zizi. Really. Gracias. And sorry I'm being a total ass about all this. I'll see you soon, OK?'

He waved Zechs off, brought their little tray back inside, and headed to where he'd left his car. A shame they hadn't been able to spend the afternoon together, but he'd known when he'd suggested it that it was almost certainly a non-starter. There were times when he could coax Zechs into taking a few hours, or even a whole day, off, but he had a new pastry chef starting that day, and he'd want to be there. 

That was the difference between them, he supposed. One of the differences. They were both massively enthusiastic about their jobs, both perfectionists in their own ways, and they totally got that about the other.

Duo loved what he did, taking some poor, neglected car and restoring her to the beauty she'd once been, and sure, he wanted to make a success of the garage; to make a half-way decent living being his own boss and doing something he loved, but he didn't have any ambitions to be the best mechanic in the world or feature in some upmarket classic car magazine or anything like that. He just wasn't driven the way Zechs was, always focused on winning another award, or creating a perfect dish, or getting a glowing write-up in some glossy, gourmet magazine. Always wanting to show his parents what a success he was making of his life, Duo sort of thought sometimes, even if it wasn't the career they'd wanted for him. 

Or maybe it was just that he was an ambitious person, full stop. 

In the car, he turned the radio on full-blast and focused on thinking, very hard, about the Aston Martin he'd bought yesterday, paying way too much because it had been love at first sight, and he'd wanted to rescue her from the stupid guy who'd let her fall into such a fucking bad state because he couldn't be bothered to fork out for a little basic maintenance, and he'd known exactly what needed to be done to bring her back to her former glory. 

At the turning he took to go home, his own apartment, he did hesitate for a second, until the car behind flashed its lights at him, and he moved on to Zechs' tower. Home now, probably, for real. At least there, he'd be able to go for a swim, and there'd be way more food. 

In the kitchen, he assembled the makings of a sandwich, with Zechs' little cat weaving between his legs as he worked, scolding him in penetrating Siamese wails; setting out wafter-thin slices of Iberian ham; a couple of difference cheeses, cherry tomatoes, a slice of rye bread, and a dollop of mustard. That actually made him grin, reaching for little jar they'd bought a local farmers' market the week before. Before Zechs, he might conceivably have had mustard in his kitchen, but it would have been a little foil sachet he'd filched from some fast food place. He'd never have thought for a second about ingredients or provenance. Hell, back then he hadn't even realised what the stuff even was, that it came from an actual plant rather than appearing fully-formed as bright yellow goo. 

In the end, he couldn't be bothered actually making up the sandwich. Actually, he wasn't all that hungry, and most of the food would end up being given to the cat, but just standing in the kitchen, and filling his plate gave him something mechanical to do, grounding him slightly. He cleaned after himself, because he and Zechs had had the non-cleaning-up argument several times, and shit, if he did move in properly, they'd have to compromise, just a little bit, on that. He just brought the plate of food outside to pick at, with Mia resolutely trying to trip him up at every step, piercing blue eyes glaring at him. A deconstructed sandwich, Zechs would call it. He'd poured himself a tall glass of fresh orange juice as well, having resolutely ignored the half-full bottle of wine in the fridge. He let himself have an occasional drink in the evening with Zechs, or if they were out with other people, but never when he was alone. 

He'd fallen down that particular hole for a few months on L2, after he'd got out of hospital. He'd been in pretty much continuous pain, and not sure whether or not he'd ever get the full use of his leg back, and Marco had bailed on him, not wanting to waste his precious time taking care of his scarred, crippled boyfriend. 

A couple of months of that, and then he'd dragged himself up from the gutter, literally enough. He'd downloaded pictures of Marbella and stuck them on his bedroom walls, and researched prospective garage premises and apartments, and started learning Spanish from an app on his phone. He'd stopped drinking and gone back to physical therapy and started the other kind of therapy, on his physio's advice, and resolved that he'd never again end up unconscious in a club bathroom with half his clothes off and his ass aching and only a blurred memory of what had actually happened. 

He'd needed that wake up call, he thought sometimes; needed to be reminded that even his life was shit, he still wasn't anywhere near ready to give up on it. So, he'd spent the weeks waiting for his blood test results immersing himself in the thought of Spain, of how to make it a reality. 

And he'd made it here, and met Zechs, on the crappiest, most awful night, so bad that he still didn't much like thinking about it. He'd only been in Spain a few days at that point, and was still jet-lagged, and his leg was still in knots from the long, painfully cramped shuttle ride, but Dermail had asked him out to dinner, and he hadn't wanted to refuse. The guy was his safety net, pretty much. Starting a fancy-shmancy upmarket business in a country – on a planet – where he didn't know anyone, was essentially a crazy gamble, but he'd a friend on L2, someone he'd known since they were in juvie together, who knew someone in Spain, who knew someone else who worked for some rich guy who liked collecting classic cars and was looking for a reliable mechanic to keep on retainer. The actual job would probably only take a few hours a week, but it would be a guaranteed income, and more important, Dermail knew people, and he'd maybe recommend Duo to his friends. 

That had been the idea, and yeah, he'd thought the guy asking his new mechanic out for a meal at some posh restaurant was maybe a bit over the top, and there'd been alarm bells ringing at the start, but they'd talked about cars, full stop. He hadn't taken to Dermail much, but then it wasn't like he was looking for a new best buddy or something. So he'd let the guy brag about his cars, and how much they'd all cost, and nodded, and looked impressed in the right places and tried not to be too obvious about yawning or checking the time every few minutes. 

After the meal, Dermail had offered to drive him home, saying it was on his way, and the alarm bells had started up again, more strident than before, when he'd brushed off Duo saying he could easily take a taxi. Over a year later, Duo thought that, just maybe, he could have handled things a bit better. He could have pleaded tiredness and jet lag as an excuse not to take a short walk to look at the moonlight over the sea when Dermail had pulled in by the side of the road, and he could maybe have been a little bit more diplomatic and polite about turning the guy down. He could maybe have found some graceful way of saying no instead of the whole shit storm that had actually happened.

Fuck it, though. Dermail was an utter bastard, acting like Duo was his personal property to grope and then spewing abuse at him, he should be grateful that a man like him was interested in someone like Duo, and that it wasn't as if a cripple from the slums of L2 would ever get any better offers.

Fuck, really. He'd stormed off, leaving Duo alone in the middle of nowhere, with his leg aching the way it sometimes did when he overdid things, when he almost wished it had been amputated after all, and watching his cherished, iridescent dream becoming a nightmare.

Then there'd been Zechs, turning up and trying to act like some sort of bloody knight rescuing the damsel in distress, and Duoe'd treated him like shit, just because he was there, and he'd tried to help. He hadn't believed for one second that anyone would just try to help some random stranger without wanting something in return because that wasn't how the universe, Duo's universe, worked. 

Except – over a year later, it sort of did. Sometimes, anyway. 

He could move in here, yeah, and it would be perfect and, to be honest, he more or less half-lived there anyway. Zechs did stay at his place sometimes, but he didn't like leaving Mia alone, and here they had a lot more privacy, with no near neighbours who could look over the balcony; no screaming kids on holiday or bored grannies who wanted to gossip, and it was closer to where they both worked. 

It wasn't his, though. Wasn't the first place he'd ever lived in that wasn't some sort of cheap dosshouse or squat or a fucking sheet of cardboard under a bridge. 

'Fuck.' He folded a curl of ham into a square and dipped it into his splodge of mustard, and laughed at himself. Look at him now. Totally corrupted by Zechs food-wise; eating food from some artisan supplier who charged insane prices. A long way from scrounging food out of trash cans. 

He ate a tomato, liking the sweetness, and stood up abruptly. Right. Time to stop wallowing, the way Zechs had said. He'd spent months twisting himself into tangled knots to avoid facing facts. Enough. He had so much more than he'd ever had in his whole life. He had Zechs, and friends, and his own business. OK, he'd have to downscale a bit, but it'd still be his. Maybe he would have to let his apartment for a bit, but that would still be his too. 

And in the meantime, he'd get to live here, which wasn't so dusty by any standards. A Spanish tower by the sea with its own live-in award-winning chef / sex god. Not like he actually had a damn thing in the world to complain about. 

He hadn't believed it at first, that the one night they'd spent together would really go anywhere. OK, strictly speaking, the one night, and the next day, and the following night as well. Yeah, there'd been epic bouts of stellar sex, and they'd got on surprisingly well outside the bedroom, but he hadn't really thought it would develop into anything. Hadn't been sure he'd wanted it to, being totally honest. He was new in Spain, and a one-night stand had been fine; a bit of a holiday fling, but that was it.

He hadn't been with anyone for over six months at that point; and Zechs had been the most gorgeous guy he'd ever seen, and he'd just thought why the hell not? A little welcome-to-Spain treat with someone he'd never see again. 

He hadn't wanted anything more. Hadn't been remotely ready for it, not with setting up the garage and settling into a strange country, and still getting over that asshole on L2. It had somehow settled into something more, because Zechs was damn persistent, in bed and out of it, and there'd been more sex – way more sex – and the best food he'd ever eaten, and a few day trips around the area, and then he'd met Zechs' cat, and his friends, and his sister. His parents, just the once, which had been more than enough, and made sense of some pieces of the Zechs puzzle, like how someone could combine that level of arrogance with those little pockets of insecurity. They'd only been together for a couple of months at that point, and he'd made jokes about meeting the parents but secretly he'd been a bit nervous, wondering what the aristocratic Merquises would think of their only son shacked up with a mechanic from L2 who had no real education or fancy family background; who'd been in and out of juvie since he'd been a kid, and still couldn't walk without a bit of a limp, even a year after his accident.

He needn't have worried, as it turned out. They'd been perfectly pleasant to him, in that rather detached way that rich people had, but they'd spent most of the six course meal gushing about Relena's new ambassadorial appointment, and how happy they were that at least one of their children had decided to pursue a meaningful career. After they'd left, claiming they had an early morning flight the next day, and without once asking their son about his restaurant or any other fucking thing about his life, Zechs had called for another bottle of wine, and drunk most of it himself. Duo'd been the one to drive them home, and listen to Zechs talk about them, the first time he'd really opened up about his family, although there'd d been hints enough. 

He'd been the one to look after his boyfriend that night, for the first time, taking him to bed and making him forget the whole thing, realising Zechs wasn't quite as unassailably confident as he seemed.

Then, there'd been those few months where he'd just been waiting for the revelation. There was no way that someone who looked like Zechs; who fucked the way he did, for God's sake, would be running around loose unless there was something seriously wrong with him. He was bound to be a serial killer who used up his victims' bodies in the restaurant, or had a secret sex dungeon, or some shit like that. And Duo was hopeless at picking people to be with. Marco'd only been the tip of the iceberg, really, compared to some of them, so he didn't have a whole lot of faith in his own judgement. 

Zechs wasn't a serial killer and he didn't mind an occasional little bit of recreational bondage but he didn't have a room dedicated to it. He'd never tried to hit Duo or cheated on him; never stolen from him or tried to involve him in anything illegal. If you thought about, his standards were pretty low, really.

He just seemed to be a genuinely decent person, who genuinely enjoyed being with Duo, in bed and out of it, and that had made the whole thing even scarier. 

In his experience, the only reason the universe ever gave Duo Maxwell anything half-way decent was so it could wait 'til he got attached, and then snatch it away at the worst possible moment. 

He'd pretty much had his dream job on L2. Gone.

He'd been living with a guy that he'd kinda thought he maybe was in love with. Yeah. So much for his judgement of people. Marco had bailed straight after the accident, and came crawling back months later, after Duo had got his settlement, claiming he just hadn't been able to stay and watch him in so much pain, that he'd loved him too much.

Zechs, though. He wasn't as damn perfect as he thought he was, but he occasionally came close. He was obsessed with his job, and fucking anal about his kitchen, and they'd had a couple of massive rows about Duo putting something in the wrong drawer, or not closing a jar or bottle properly. He was arrogant as fuck, and it would literally kill him to admit he'd ever been wrong about anything, and he treated Duo like some sort of damsel in distress, and nine times out of ten it drove him insane, but just occasionally he sort of liked it. 

So, yeah. It wasn't like moving in here would be the worst thing in the universe. Not by a long shot. He was so damn lucky, really, and didn't appreciate it nearly enough. So. 

'No more damned pity parties, Maxwell,' he said firmly, setting down his plate for Mia, who hunched herself around it and hissed at him for taking so long. Duo grinned. 'You are so like him, you know, expecting everyone in the universe to bend over backwards for you. I guess it's all my fault, letting you boss me around.'

He was grinning as he lay back on the recliner, since there were definite times when he didn't really mind Zechs bossing him around, in bed or out of it. Really, he was being an idiot even for thinking about objecting to coming to live in this amazing place. Seriously, only a total moron would think of turning down the chance to live in a place like this, even without the added inducement of the owner. The very considerable inducement. Damn. Right. Enough flailing about in self-pity. He was going to go for a quick swim and then he was going to sort stuff out. 

He stood up and stripped off, and then grinned at a sudden thought and reached for his phone to take a selfie. He thought of writing something sexy or sappy to go with the photo, but it spoke for itself really. Zechs would get the message clearly enough to come home asap, just in case he'd got distracted talking choux pastry or millefeuilles with his new dessert chef.

He slathered on sun-screen, having forgotten just the once and seriously suffered for it, and dived in. He swam one brisk length; the water wasn't cold, but it was definitely chillier than the warm air outside, and then turned and floated, looking up at the sky. He'd never tried naked swimming before Zechs, but he loved it, loved the lap of the water around his body. 

He swam laps every morning in the pool at his apartment, as part of his physical therapy for his leg, but early enough that there usually wasn't anyone else around. Most of the permanent residents knew him by now and didn't give him a second glance, but there were always people visiting and kids stared at his leg and asked questions, and adults didn't stare, so pointedly that it was just as damn obvious. At least if he lived here, he could use the pool whenever he wanted. Naked, whenever he wanted. 

He didn't stay in that long; it was a little bit boring alone, and he had stuff to do. He towelled himself off quickly and settled back on the recliner, Mia condescending to jump up beside him, and took out his phone again. No sexy pictures this time, but business. He grinned at the short message Zechs had sent, telling him that he wasn't to get dressed under any circumstances, and then pulled up a real estate website.

Twenty minutes later, he closed his eyes, put the phone down, and lay back, feeling the heat as an almost tangible thing, pressing down on him, imagining all the tiny sunbeam particles seeping through his skin, liquid golden sparkles shimmering into his bloodstream, coursing around his body. His therapist had shown him all kinds of visualisation techniques, and he'd initially thought it was all stupid, new age crap, but sometimes they did work. 

This time, it did.

Now he'd stopped flailing around about how the world sucked, he could acknowledge that, just maybe, things weren't really all that bad. He'd just spent the past few months with his head up his ass, because that was how he dealt with stuff sometimes, and now he had to damn well face reality, and maybe it all would work out, and if it didn't, he'd find something else. He had someone, and a few good friends, and he was damn good at what he did. He was never going to be out of a job, even if it mightn't be the perfect one that he'd dreamed of. 

Duo blinked into full wakefulness, realising he had the cat curled against his side – it had been the prick of her claws that had woken him – and that Zechs was sitting on the other chair, reading.

'Hey. Time is it?'

'Almost five. I've only just got back.'

'You should've woken me.'

'I was going to, and then I started reading an article about honey production in Slovenia.' 

Duo grinned. Zechs was interested in pretty much every food in the universe, but he was truly obsessed with honey. In the last year, he'd seen more beehives than he'd ever guessed even existed. 

'How are you, carino?'

Duo opened his mouth to say that of course he was fine, not a bother on him; that he'd flailed around in his pathetic little pity party for long enough, and given himself a stern telling off and sorted everything out. Nothing came out. Just a sad little shake of his head.

'Oh, Duo,' Zechs said it with so much understanding that somehow he catapulted out of his chair and ended up in Zechs' lap, with his boyfriend's arms wrapped around him.

He didn't cry because he never did, purely on principle. But he did press his face into Zechs' shoulder, and maybe gulped a bit to himself, and let himself just wallow in the feel of being held, of half-listening to Zechs' murmured endearments in three languages.

''M, sorry,' he said finally, emerging from the folds of Zechs' shirt, and the feel of him, all solid and warm and steady heartbeats. Steadying him like nothing else in the universe. 

'What on earth for?' Zechs asked. 'Trusting me to help you feel better after a terrible day. You don't have to be sorry for that.'

'That, yeah, that and being a total loser.'

'You're nothing of the sort.'

'Zee, don't. I'm bloody bankrupt, I hardly have enough to pay Howie and Hilde at the end of the month; I'm gonna have to give up the garage. You and Quat and Heero've been trying to tell me this for freaking months, and I wouldn't listen because I wanted to pretend there'd be a miracle and it'd all work out. How exactly is that not being a damn failure?'

'What you are doing,' Zechs said crisply, 'is altering your core business strategy to cater for current market forces. Nothing more. And there is nothing about that that's remotely connected to being a failure. It's astute business policy.'

Duo gave him a faint, reluctant grin. 'Write that down for me, will you? And yeah, I know what you mean. I just feel.... I've messed everything up. And it's dumb, but I do feel a loser, and I'm not sure if you can get that.'

'You are joking, querido, yes? I've told you what my first couple of years were like at the restaurant, don't you remember? That sommelier whom I thought was a friend, and who robbed me blind for months? The cleaner who unplugged all the fridges before he left because he wanted to save power and ruined everything? Dear God, I've even told you about the time when I tried asking my parents for a short-term loan. Let me see; what else? I slept with my wine merchant a couple of times because I couldn't afford to pay him; did I ever tell you that? I spent a month sleeping on the restaurant floor because I couldn't afford to pay my rent and pay the staff. But I survived, and the business took off, and that will happen for you.

'Will it?' 

Zechs kissed him. 'It will, yes. I promise.'

'Maybe,' Duo allowed. 'Listen. So, I've been thinking about stuff all afternoon.'

'Mm, I thought you might have,' Zechs said levelly. 'And?'

'And.' Duo took a deep breath. 'Pretty much everything you said, it was true. I get that. But, at the same time, the garage, all of it, it's my dream. I'm not gonna give the whole thing up. I can't, or I'll just end up where I started. So – I try to come up with some sort of compromise.'

Zechs nodded. 'Go on.'

'I do spend way too much on overheads. I'm gonna start looking for new premises on Monday. I already made a few appointments, actually. You can maybe come with me in the morning, if you're free. They all look pretty nice, just not as glitzy as where I am now, but they are way cheaper. And I was thinking about your idea of the maintenance service; I can start that, but I'll try to keep it for mostly classic cars. I don't just want to be some mechanic who does services and changes the oil for people. That's what I've been doing for pretty much my whole life. And another thing.' He swallowed, looking down at the table, because this was the one thing he'd always been resolved not to do; not to use his friends' connections to drum up business. 'I'm gonna let you and Quatre introduce me to some people. I don't think I'm making such a good job of doing this alone.' 

He was making a crappy job of it actually. And he could blame Dermail – the fucking bastard – 'til he was blue in the face, but at the end of the day, he was only one of the factors.

'Duo, look at it like this,' Zechs cupped one hand around Duo's chin and tilted his face up to look at him. 'If you had customers in the garage asking you to recommend a restaurant, would you tell them about La Despenza?'

'Not the same.'

'It's exactly the same. Personal recommendations are everything. And I just may be able to help there.' He took out his phone, flicked a few buttons and handed it over.

'Wow.' Duo took in the image on screen; even glaring at whoever was taking the photo, the Chinese guy was seriously hot. Like Vindaloo / chili pepper hot. Zechs had done that to him, got him into the habit of comparing everything to food. 'Who's that?'

'That is Professor Chang, of the University of Barcelona. He just happens to be married to be married to one of the wealthiest men in Spain, whose aim in life is to make his husband happy.'

'Don't blame him,' Duo muttered. 'And – let me guess, this professor guy is into cars?'

'The professor guy is into cars,' Zechs confirmed. 'And it happens to be his birthday next month. And they happen to have booked the restaurant for the party. They'll be calling in over the next few days to confirm the menu; I could just happen to mention my boyfriend's business. Yes?'

Duo nodded. 'Yes. Please. New resolution. I need to start making contacts, right? Anyway, other new resolution. This is one of the things I was thinking about this afternoon. I'm going to give the garage six months, twelve at most. If I can't make a go of it in that time, maybe it's just not meant to be.'

'But, Duo...'

'No, stop. I've thought about this. Just 'cause I have this dream, it doesn't mean it's gonna happen. Maybe I need to do some other stuff, and get experience, make contacts, and come back to it. I don't want to spend years doing something that's not working out. I've kinda...I've pretty much been fixated on this one thing, ever since the accident. But that doesn't mean there's nothing else for me.'

'For us,' Zechs corrected, smiling in that way that made every one of Duo's organs and intestines and other inside parts turn to honey-flavoured goo. 

'Us, yeah. Absolutely.' He leaned into Zechs' touch, just a little more. 'Zed, listen. The other thing, yeah. I do want us to live together. I mean, c'mon, I pretty much live here most of the time anyway. But I don't want to move in officially 'til it's something we both really want, not 'cause I'm broke and I need to save money. I love you, honestly, but I don't think I'm ready for the whole full-time sharing yet. I don't honestly think either of us is. But I want us to talk about it, seriously, in a while. I'm talking a few months, when I'm a bit more sorted about what I'm doing. Is...that OK?'

'Perfect, always. One condition.'

'Maybe.'

'Non-negotiable. You talk to me about the business. You let me help, even if it's just going over hte figures with you, or talking to me before you buy some insanely expensive car that you have no buyer for and that will cost another fortune to restore. Yes?'

Duo nodded.

'Good, Now, I have something for you.'

'Mm, yeah,' Duo said appreciatively, pressing against him. 'I can feel it.'

'That, yes. Always. Later. But I have two other things first. Here's a little snack. Close your eyes.'

'No.' Zechs had this thing that to appreciate the taste of something properly, you had to shut off the other senses. 'I don't trust you to do that any more. Not after you fed me that snail.'

'You liked it before you knew what it was.'

'Yeah, and then you told me and I threw up on your shoes,' Duo retorted. 'You really want that to happen again?'

'Hm. Point taken. It's just goat's cheese, honestly. The new pasty chef's parents have a small farm in the mountains and make their own products; she brought in some things for me to try.' He bent down a took a small paper-wrapped package out of his bag, unwrapping it reverentially. 'Just wait. This is the most amazing thing; I still can't work out the exact blend of herbs it's been infused with. It's just – stunning, truly. I've ordered some for next week, but I can't work out exactly what I'm going to do with them.' He lifted the little circle of cheese to his nose, and inhaled, looking like he'd found the cheese-scented gates to paradise. 'Rosemary, obviously, but there's something else. Something more exotic, just a hint but it's there, definitely. It's not quite like cumin but..' His voice trailed off as he frowned, breaking off a little piece and tasting it.

'You want me to leave you alone with your new squeeze?' Duo teased him. 'Have a bit of quality time together? Seriously, I dunno if it's funny or sad that if you ever cheated on me, it'd be with a dairy product.'

'Not necessarily,' Zechs objected. 'It could be with a particularly amazing dessert either.' He considered for a moment. 'No, actually, on second thoughts, that would be a threesome. Here, try a little.'

'Oh, wow,' Duo enthused. 'Yeah, OK, I think maybe I would leave you for this, actually. Can we finish it for dinner?'

'For dessert, yes. For dinner, I am going to make you a a Duo-burger,'

'Seriously? You don't have to; we can just do something quick.' 

The Duo-burger, invented by Zechs for their six-month anniversary, was the most delicious burger in the entire universe. Zechs' mission to create the perfect burger had been a running joke between them since their first night together, when Duo had said he preferred fast food to gourmet. There had been plenty of experimental versions over the months, with kobe beef and spiced Moroccan lamb and venison, but the finalised version had ended up being made out of the some of the foods Zechs had introduced him to and that he'd adored; the burger itself was made out of roast duck confit, finely minced, because forget fucking burgers, roast duck was the best thing ever, topped with slivers of smoked duck breast, and sauteed mushrooms, and slices of peach marinated in cognac.

He'd first made it at home for Duo as a private celebration, but he'd also added it to the menu as an occasional special, and the burger itself, and the story about the chef who'd created it for his boyfriend, had gone viral all over social media, and been featured in a couple of foodie magazines, and even won an award. 

Zechs laughed. 'I prepared most of it at the restaurant. It won't take that long to get it ready. We have time for a little appetiser, perhaps?'

'Yeah?' Duo grinned back. 'What were you thinking of? More of that yummy cheese? Or something a little bit different?'

'Hmm.' Zechs trailed one finger down Duo's bare arm. 'Possibly something a little different. Just to work up an appetite.'


End file.
